


The One With The Cowbell

by evil_whimsey



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Crack, Kink Meme, M/M, insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_whimsey/pseuds/evil_whimsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written on a dare, for the FMA KinkMeme.  Crossdressing, preposterousness, profanity, and cowbell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With The Cowbell

"You are a pervert. A deviant. I am _never_ ," Ed hissed, "bringing you back to Risembul again."

They were in the darkness of Farmer Knapworth's barn, harvest festival in full drunken swing just outside, but the barn doors were barred--Ed started forward in a flare of paranoia--they were barred right? He'd remembered to do that, hadn't he? God help them if anybody stumbled in now....

"Hmm, hang on there--" Roy tilted his head, eying his handiwork with that lazy self-satisfied up-and-down look that sometimes made Ed's skin prickle with goosebumps, but only because he knew it meant the bastard was up to no good at all.

Ed stopped short, the fluttery hem of this, this thing he was wearing (he wasn't gonna say it, refused on principle to even think it) swinging above his knees, letting the chilly air up his legs and other places he never particularly wanted to feel a brisk autumn breeze.

Actually, to hell with the barn door. First things first. "Change it back. This was not part of the deal." He grabbed a handful of fabric, and shook it at Roy. "I shoulda known better than to let you draw that array."

"How perfectly.....interesting." Typically, Roy was ignoring all the danger signs. Now he was moving in, circling Ed slowly, looking him over like some damned barn cat trying to decide whether it wanted to eat the bird it just caught, or maybe terrorize it some first. "I really didn't think it would do _that_."

"You didn't--you didn't _think_? You--a qualified State Alchemist! Are actually telling me you _didn't think_ your array would turn my perfectly good clothes into--into--." Ed had two fistfuls of skirt now, fully aware he was sputtering with helpless rage, about two seconds away from completely losing it, and he was also most certainly conscious that all Roy would do, all he had ever done in these instances, was arch one carelessly amused eyebrow, enjoying the free fireworks, and Ed knew he'd end up looking like a raving jackass, but God, he could never help it. Roy was just--he was just--.

"A milkmaid's outfit?" Roy supplied helpfully, and Ed lost it.

"YOU ARE A FIEND!" he roared and Roy darted in quick, "--oops, there we go," and clapped a hand over his mouth.  
"Hmmmph! Mmm-hmmph, mmumph-hmph-mmph!" Ed railed on, undeterred, into Roy's palm, while Roy nodded, "Yes, yes, you're quite right," in a dangerously distracted manner.

"Ah, here we are." He swept an item off a nearby shelf, and shoved it into Ed's automail hand. "Hold this, would you?"  
Ed grasped the object automatically, not even pausing his muffled rant about the outrage, the indignity, Roy dragging him off to the barn and by means of some drunkenly scrawled, half-assed array, transmuting his clothes into this monstrosity of a tiny aproned skirt, and not near enough on top, when he'd been expecting, y'know, a quick handjob or maybe Roy wanted to suck him off in the tack room, sometimes he got weird inspirations at parties, and that was all right, Ed liked to think he was pretty damned open-minded, but sex in Farmer Knapworth's barn in a--in these _frilly things_ was going entirely too goddamned far, and how did the man even come up with this crazy shit?

"Oh look, found another one." Roy stuck something in Ed's other hand, and now he held a matching set, odd squarish things of beaten copper, and Ed--running out of breath at this point--wound down briefly to give his attention to this disturbing new development.

"Meh-mmph hummph--to do with fucking-- _cowbells_?" he demanded, when the hand slipped off his mouth.

"Accessories," Roy murmured at his back, a stream of ticklish warm breath over the exposed nape of Ed's neck. "Don't drop them."  
Ed shivered without thinking about it, realizing when a clever hand slipped under the hem of his skirt in front, and an arm eased around him, drawing him back against Roy's chest, that it was surprisingly difficult to be pissed off, turned on, and utterly mystified at the same time.

"Cowbells?" Ed repeated, arching back and shuddering helplessly as those wily, evil fingers skimmed the tops of his flimsy stockings before slipping between his thighs.  
"Oh yes. This turned out much better than the stableboy scenario," Roy mentioned in a low tone, full of the heat trickling down Ed's spine and the promise of future ambush assaults on Ed's dignity.

Ed gasped, and clenched his hands, and the cowbells jangled faintly against his skirt. Oops, had to be careful about that noise. For some reason. Which hardly seemed important at the moment.

"Don't--ohgod yeah, right there--don't push your luck, Mustang. There is no scenario. There never was--ah! fuck--a scenario. This never happened, and I never--." Ed broke off panting, only to discover a leather strap was being stuffed between his teeth. He jerked his head up, and started at the clanging noise he made.

"Less talking," Roy decisively flipped Ed's skirt up with both hands. "More cowbell."

**


End file.
